


The silent promise

by Iscynicismatalent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mkay this is set in the twenties, aw shit here I go again, eh it’s okay, insecure Gendry, kinda angsty, pregnant arya? I think yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iscynicismatalent/pseuds/Iscynicismatalent
Summary: “And with that Gendry and Arya sat on the bed of flowers and grass, enveloped in a tight hug of promises. A promise that they’d never break. “





	The silent promise

**Author's Note:**

> Mkay... here I am. With another work. I have no life, so the only thing I got going are my one else in a while mediocre works like this. So feed my ego. Comment if you enjoyed it so that I could make more okay pieces of writing hopefully longer than this. Other than that, enjoy the story I pulled out of my ass.

The dress clinging to the bump of her stomach was something he didn’t think he’d see. The fact that she was wearing a dress wasn’t as surprising as the baby bump on her. She was barefoot. Her hair was unruly and unkempt. The wind played with the strands, twisting and tangling their ends together. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t remember the earthly smell of her hair. He could feel the strands in his hand, playing with them just as the breeze was at that very moment. He could see vividly the pool of brown cascading down her bare shoulders, tickling his naked chest. The stormy grey eyes that he so helplessly fell in love with penetrated his heart. It was a nostalgic feeling. A feeling that he knew he’d never be able to get rid of. It was sweet, but still so very bitter in his mouth. She was, without a doubt in his head, the only person he found capable of giving his heart to. When he had offered it, she denied it. And although it left him tattered and torn, he forgave her. Because she was the only person he could never hate. The only person that had selflessly loved him despite rejecting the promise of joint names. He could say he waited for her after that, but he didn’t. Unable to face the consequence of his drunken proposal, he left. He didn’t have much to his name, so there was not much time needed to pack his few clothes in his trunk. Not until he was contacted by strange men that told him who’s bastard he was. He knew he was a coward for leaving her, he had no excuses. But they were so young. She was so young. And the twenties were full of lively people that wanted to party, she was one of those people. Constantly on the move. He didn’t want his wants pulling her back from her wild nature. And there was so much time ahead of them. She was only nineteen, he was twenty-three. Maybe he could find himself, and her herself. It was obvious the tension growing between them. He wanted to settle down, she wanted to move from pub to pub. The warmth of the small town in Dorne was always full of festivities, pubs littered here and there. But before he left, they would get drunk then walk to their small shared house secluded on the very hill they both stood on. As much as she enjoyed being surrounded by people and drinking, she enjoyed silence and the solitude of the outdoors. She liked being alone with nature and her best friend.

He would often try to justify his departure. He wasn’t good enough for her. She deserved better. Men swooned at the sight of her sharp beauty. They could fall as hard as he had for her, he was certain. But even he knew it was bullshit. Nobody could love her as hard as he could. Nobody would stay out in the sun repairing her bike for her to ride to the fencing lessons she taught. Because they couldn’t afford an automobile. Despite her coming from a wealthy land estate owner, she didn’t have much money. Not unless she asked. Which she seldom did. Nobody would walk miles into the forest with her in the scorching heat just so that she could swim in the river they had swam in when they were children. Nobody else would wake up at the crack of dawn to go pick oranges from the trees in the the same forest so that she could wake up to a fresh cup of orange juice. Nobody could love Arya the way Gendry could. The way he did. The way he would. But in the end, despite his strong affections towards her, he let her down. Abandoning her like her family was forced to. Politics had killed her mother, father, eldest brother, and her baby brother. Her only living brothers were busy governing a growing country, the other not to be seen. Her sister had become the new owner of the estate. She was always welcome in the large house, but it was too empty. There was no more carefree laughter. Her baby brother no longer cried when he accidentally burned himself the wax her father would use to seal the envelopes he would send to important political figures. Her mother would no longer chastise her for not acting like a lady. Her sister didn’t even sound sweet and like honey, now she sounded cold and calloused to anybody who wasn’t her family. Her big brother Robb and Jon would no longer fight over who had the best fencing form in the yard. Bran would longer run with her as they raced their large dogs, pretending they were a pack of wolves on the prowl for prey. She could no longer remember the ancient feeling of her father in her arms, stroking her hair to console her when she was scared. Now he was another lost figure in her sad, gloomy story. He had a choice unlike her family, and he chose to leave her alone in their shack-of-a-house. Willingly. One he regretted and came to his senses. He was only gone a few months. It took him only a few months for him to realize that he wasn’t lost. She didn’t need to marry him for him to know that their love was strong and lasting like the roots of a heart tree supporting it, planted firmly in the soil in the earth. Now here they were, face to face. Nose to nose. Neither of them moving from their respective places. And he doesn’t know why, but he suddenly remembers the day he left. The day he packed all his clothes and bought a ticket for Storms End. 

He was full of grief. It had been a week since they spoke about his proposal. And Arya had ignored him when he said he had loved her. She never had a problem saying it back, but now she did. They had stopped going out, drinking. He didn’t mind. It was the fact that she had distanced herself from him. The many nights and mornings they made love in weren’t as intimate as they had been before. And she had been gone for hours. Longer than she usually spent away from him. He was scared of her leaving him. Afraid that she’d say she no longer loved him. That he would run away with the handsome Ned Dayne. Or with the mysterious Braavosi foreigner Jaquan. Even with the pretentious Aegon Targaryen. He had trembled the entirety of his time packing. He remembers the tears he shed for her. Remembers the sting of regret he felt already just exiting their home, the home they built together for them, with suitcase in hand. Perhaps it was the guilt that he had the audacity to come back after months of leaving that made him remember that moment. Her pink lips were formed in a slight “o” shape. The corners of her mouth, downwards in a slight frown. She had in the moments of them staring at each other, raised a hand on her bump almost protectively. As if he were going to hurt the living creature growing in her belly. The very creature he was sure he helped conceive if he did the math correctly. She already looked motherly in the loose flowery sundress fluttering in the light breeze. It took him a while to realize that they were running to each other. 

Her cries in the crook of his neck were heart wrenching. He was the reason she was breaking down. He was the antagonist of her heart. He placed his hands on the swell of her belly just as she did before. Tears in his eyes as well, he repetitively apologized to her. Unworthy of her forgiveness, but still needing to show her that he was utterly, perpetually caught in her terrifying web of affection. 

“You left me! You bloody left me alone in this house! I was so lonely, You stupid bull! Afraid I’d have to love a child by myself when I don’t even know how to properly love another person. When all I know how to do is drive people away!” She heaved in his large chest. It shattered him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, love. I won’t do that again. Never. You’ll never be alone again. I’m sorry for scaring you, my lady,” he promised her. 

And with that Gendry and Arya sat on the bed of flowers and grass, enveloped in a tight hug of promises. A promise that they’d never break.


End file.
